


The Caffrey Box

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal discovers the Caffrey box. </p>
            </blockquote>





	The Caffrey Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aqwt101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqwt101/gifts).



  


 

_Jones: Let me guess.. that's your Caffrey box._  
Peter: Everything that didn't make sense to log into evidence.

 

It was midday, and Peter and Neal were on their way to interviewing a possible suspect.  Or they would have been, if they hadn't been stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic.  After ten minutes of traffic barely moving, Neal leaned back in the passenger seat.  "This is boring."

Peter rolled his eyes.  If being a passenger in a traffic jam was boring, being a driver was living hell.  "I apologize for not making life more interesting."

He was saved from further apologies when his phone rang.  It was El.  Peter answered on the car's speakers.  "Hey."

"Hon, hey.. I found three whole boxes of files I put aside for you."

"Excellent.  I'll take care of it tonight."

"Love you."

Disconnecting the call, Peter turned to Neal.  "El decided to do some spring cleaning."  The phone rang again and Peter pressed the 'answer' button.  "Yes?"

"I forgot to ask, what about all the Neal stuff?  You're going to-"

Peter lunged for the phone, knowing full well it was too late.  Barn, doors, frolicking horses in the distance.  "Yeah, Hon, we'll discuss this when I get home.  OK?  Yep, sure.  Uh-uh.  Yeah, he's here.  Yes, he did.  Yeah, I love you too."

He put down the phone, and for a minute, silence settled over the car.  "So, El decided to do some spring-cleaning and.. Women, you know-"

Neal was staring at him with an amused grin.  "You honestly believe I'm going to let this drop?"

"There was a hope."  Peter glanced at Neal, and added under his breath: "Small hope."

"What's the Neal stuff?"

"Oh some odds and ends."

Neal's eyes sparked with excitement.  "You kept my birthday cards?"

Peter nodded silently, before relenting under Neal's gaze. "Among other things."

Neal beamed proudly, fingers dancing on his side of the door.  "I didn't know you cared."

"I didn't." Peter shook his head, "But I was chasing you for three years, and I had no idea what would be useful.  Good detective work is in the details."

"So why are you still keeping it?"

Peter sighed.  "Well, after three years, it just seemed like a waste to throw it all out."

"Uh-uh.  What else do you have?"

"Nothing interesting, I can assure you."

"Right."  Neal didn't believe that for a second.  "So when can I see it?"

"What?" Peter shot Neal a glance.  "Oh, no, no, no.  No."

"Oh, come on, Peter.  It's *my* stuff you're keeping."

"No." Peter answered adamantly.

"Why not?"

Peter turned to face Neal, "What part of 'no' don't you understand?"

 

\---------------

"OK.  Here it is."  Peter came down the stairs with a cardboard box and placed it on the kitchen counter.  "Believe me, it's quite boring."

Neal was already pulling the flaps open.  "Uh-uh. Oh, you kept my cookies!"

"The packaging."

"Yeah, I suppose by now they wouldn't taste as fresh.  Don't tell me you kept that sucker too."

Peter smiled at the memory.  "That's long gone."

"You kept the wrapper, then?"  Neal reached into the box, pulling out a bunch of paper napkins from various restaurants.  He looked at Peter incredulously.  "You kept my doodles?"

"They might have contained important clues!"

"You didn't hang them on the fridge I hope."  Neal dropped them and continued rummaging in the box.  "What are these?"  He held up another package of papers.

"What do you think?"

Neal was looking through them.  "Tourist brochures?  How was that supposed to help you catch me?"

"You never know when they'll come in handy," Peter added dryly.

"Oh...." Neal produced an empty bottle of champagne.  "This brings back memories."

Peter put a hand on his hip.  "Really?"

"Well, alleged memories."  Neal sniffed at the cap.  "Only the best for the FBI."

Neal put the bottle down. After some more rummaging he pulled out a package of surveillance photos and started flipping through them.  "Very stalker-y."

Peter rolled his eyes.  "I had to get into your head if I was going to catch you."

"Says the guy who stalked his future wife."

"Give me that."  Peter grabbed the pictures and dropped them back into the box.  "I wasn't stalking her.  I was just waiting for the opportune moment to ask her out."

"Uh-uh."  Neal held up a packet of CDs.  "Favorite surveilling van music?"

"Phone recordings."  Peter took the packet and looked through them.  "There was a time when all my house calls were recorded, we never knew when you'll decide to ring me up."

"Ohhhh yes."  Neal glanced over Peter's shoulder.  "And you're saving them for.. what?"

"Neal, despite what you might think, I haven't looked at this box since you've been arrested."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Neal just waved that away, his attention focused on a container he'd pulled out of the box, filled with ticket stubs.  "You actually went to them all?"

"Look, a wanted art thief sends you to a museum, you have to go, right?"  Neal stared Peter down.  "And El gave me no choice."

Neal flipped through the tickets again.  "Ooh.  You *did* go to that Yankees game." Neal waved the ticket stub in front of Peter's face.  "You're still saying you haven't looked at this box recently?"

Peter grabbed the entire package from Neal's hands.  "OK.  I think that's enough for tonight."  He gathered everything on the counter and dumped it all back in.

"So we're going to do this again sometime?"

"No."  Peter closed the box.  He'd already shared more than he intended to.

Neal shrugged with a smile.  "We'll see about that."

 

\---------------

That night, in their bedroom, Elizabeth snuggled up to Peter.  "I'm sorry about today. I didn't realize you were on speaker."

"That's OK."  Peter reached over to turn off the lights.  "At least he didn't realize there was more than one box."

 

 


End file.
